


Little Shop of Hope

by h0tbl00ded



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, but i dont care, flowershop au, motorcycle shop au, this is so selfish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0tbl00ded/pseuds/h0tbl00ded
Summary: In a world where walkers don't exist, Paul Rovia owns a flower shop, and Daryl Dixon owns the motorcycle shop next door, and finds flowers on his doorstep every morning.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Jesus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Little Shop of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> so im posting this now because I have another idea that involves Malcolm bright in the twd universe and Roman said if I don't finish this it's on sight so here roman take it, I didn't add much to the ending

Another damn flower. Daryl huffed, tucking his keys in his pocket as he picked up the delicately wrapped, giant pink mess of petals. It was pretty, he supposed. Not really his type of thing, though. He sighed, unlocking the door to his shop. Then, he grabbed the book he’d been using to press all of them, opened it to a new page, and stuck the flower in there, shutting the book, and putting it away again. By now, he must have at least fifty pressed flowers, different colors, shapes, sizes. It wasn’t exactly a mystery who was putting them here, not with the florist right next door. 

Daryl opened the garage doors, and turned the neon Open sign on. Yep, there he was, putting out his flower baskets just like he did every day. He lit up a smoke, and watched his neighbor work. He was good at his job, there was no doubt about it, they all looked pretty. Well, at least to Daryl. But what does he know about these things? His name was Paul Rovia, though he’d heard people call him Jesus. Made sense, with all the hair that he liked to keep neat in a man bun. They’d had exactly one conversation, Paul inviting him to dinner sometime. Obviously, Daryl hadn’t taken him up on that.

Daryl was a loner. He liked working in his shop, smelling like oil, covered in grease and grime. Paul was the opposite, it seemed like. Clean, smelling of flowers and honey, always smiling, laughing. He caught Daryl looking - staring, in all honesty - and gave him one of those smiles. Daryl blushed, ducking his head, and giving him a wave, turning back into his shop. 

He’d like to say that his business does pretty good. He’s always got a bike to fix, he;s always got money in his pocket, something he wasn’t used to having as a kid. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, he got to work, pulling his overalls all the way on, and getting lost in the mechanics of a Harley. This one didn’t have too many issues, he just needed to replace some things, and luckily he had all the parts there, so he didn’t have to order them online and deal with the bitchy asswipe who always delivered them. 

Hours went on, and soon enough, he was finished, standing up with a proud smile, wiping his hands off. Time to take her for a spin. He made sure he was relatively clean, tying the arms of the overalls around his waist, and wiping his boots off, before he straddled the bike. The engine roared to life, and he took off, turning the radio on, the guitar solo in Free Bird playing and he pounded down the road. He took her around a couple blocks, testing the breaks, shocks, acceleration and all that. The bike was in near perfect condition, now. Paul was standing outside when he came back in, and he held up a finger to him, parking the Harley, and turning it off. 

“Looked good out there!”

“Thanks. You into bikes?” Daryl reluctantly approached him, careful not to touch anything. He felt like he might taint it, or something. 

Paul shook his head, bemused. “No, I was never one for mechanics, it’s all too big and complex. But, I can appreciate it when I see a really cool guy on a really cool ride.” 

Daryl looked at the ground, biting back a smile. Sappy fucker. “Well, uh. Thank you.” He shuffled his feet, not really knowing what to say. 

“You’re welcome! Did you like the hibiscus?”

“The what?”

“The flower I left today. Though, now that I’ve seen you actually on a bike, I don’t think that’s the right flower for you, either. I’ll keep trying.” Paul bit his lip, looking Daryl over.

So that’s what all the flowers were for. Paul was trying to put Daryl into terms that he’d understand, Daryl could get that. “Too bright. Smelled good, though.” 

“Oh, you liked it!” Paul positively beamed, and Daryl could feel his face turning a similar shade to the hibiscus. “Good. Hmm, perhaps I’m thinking too much about it. You seem more wild, like an oat, or a daisy. You’re certainly resilient enough to be one.”

“Y’could ask.” Why did he say that? Daryl doesn’t know jack shit about most flowers! But, as he played out the conversation in his head, he did know what kind of flower he was. Man, why was he thinkin’ about what kind of fuckin’ flower he is? Sappy fuck! 

“I’m not so sure you would answer. Besides, I like trying to figure it out.”

Daryl grunted. “Suit yourself.” 

“Uh, listen, there’s actually a reason I wanted to talk to you. Did you have any plans for dinner? I made way too many mashed potatoes, and I’ve got some steak in there, there’s no way I’m going to be able to finish it by myself.”

Daryl didn’t have any plans. He usually just ate whatever he had in the fridge, take out, ramen, stuff like that. The idea of a home cooked meal had his stomach rumbling. “I don’t know…”

“Please, Daryl? It’s just dinner.” Paul gave him a pleading look, and dammit, Daryl found himself giving in. 

“Fine. I gotta change, though.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Paul smiled, and Daryl went back into his shop, back into the locker area, pulling out fresh clothes, a cut off t-shirt, and his favorite pair of jeans. On his way out, he stopped by a mirror, apparently he’d wiped some dirt on his forehead. Awesome. He spent ten minutes cleaning himself properly, taking a washcloth, running some water over it, and making sure he was no longer covered in a layer of grease. Even he had to admit to himself, he did look nice, in a redneck, sort of way. Kind of. 

Finally, he knocked on Paul’s door, and he heard a faint “Come in!” through the stained glass, so he let himself in. Whoa. He should come by here more often. 

The inside of the florist’s shop was breathtaking, live plants in pots, herbs drying up on the walla, vines creeping all around, bouquets and arrangements everywhere, it was such a wonderful explosion of color. Daryl softly shut the door behind him, and Paul came out of the back room, wearing an apron. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to show up. C’mon, I set out plates.” 

Daryl followed him into the back, and he had a heart pang as he looked at Paul’s kitchen. It looked like a fucking dream. Everything was neat, organized, there was a happy fire crackling away, smaller plants decorating the place, everything was wood, and it just felt all so homey. He loved it. It was such a stark difference to Daryl’s metal on metal, white, green, red and chrome place, with black and yellow caution stripes. He sat at the table, and he smiled at the little chili pepper lights that were strung up on the walls. Paul soon joined him, setting the plate of meat down, and the pot of potatoes. 

“Help yourself.” No further words were needed, Daryl dug in, grabbing what he wanted, and shoving forkfuls into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he actually took the time to taste it, it was so fucking good. He was pretty sure he groaned, but no fucks were given at this dinner. He practically inhaled everything, and he only paused for a second when he saw Paul staring at him. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. It’s just. You’re clean. And you look happy.” He bit his lip, picking up his fork. “Looks good on you.” 

Daryl grunted, shoving another forkful of potatoes in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to answer. He was happy all the time. This was just a different kind of happiness. He finished way before Paul did, leaning back in his chair, and admiring all of his handiwork. 

“There’s beers in the fridge, or if you want, whiskey in the cupboard.” Paul pointed, and Daryl grabbed it, as well as two glasses, pouring them both a drink. 

“Thanks. For this, and the meal. It was really good.” 

“Yeah, of course. I knew eventually you’d come over.” Jesus smiled, taking his glass, and sipping the alcohol, wincing. Daryl huffed, downing his drink in one go without blinking. The fiery liquid settled in his belly, comforting him. 

“Oh yeah? Why did you want me to? I mean… Why all of it?” Daryl asked. He didn’t understand - he didn’t deserve all of this niceness. They barely knew each other. 

Paul took another sip, arching his eyebrow at Daryl. “What do you mean? Because I like you?”

“You do? I mean, yeah, I like you too, you’re cool. Kinda weird sometimes, but -”

“Daryl, no. I meant - you had no idea that I’ve been flirting with you this whole time?”

What? Daryl frowned. “Flirting with me?”

“Or, at least, I’ve been trying to. I confess, I’m not really an expert.” It was Paul’s turn to blush, covering his face with his hands. “Well. Uh, hey, guess what Daryl? I’m into you. Surpriiiise.” He laughed, rubbing his face. “God, I’m embarrassed.”

“Hmm. At least you’re not the one who didn’t realize they were being flirted with.” Daryl tapped his glass, trying to choose his words carefully, as his mind was still reeling from the sudden confession. “You’re gonna keep doing it though, right?”

“You mean…”

“I like it. It’s…different than what I’m used to.” And that was the best that Paul was going to get from Daryl today. He poured them both another drink, this time, he took his time with it. 

“There’s no way you’re going to admit anything else to me tonight, is there?”

Daryl leaned forward, and so did Paul, his face curious, and expectant. Their faces were merely inches apart, Daryl could smell the sweetness on him. Then, Daryl blew out a light breath on his face. “Nope. Not happening. Tonight.” 

Paul sighed in mock aggravation, leaning back in his chair. “Figured as much. That’s okay, I can be patient. Or… We can make a deal. Since, I’m awful at flirting, and you’re awful at returning.”

Daryl snickered. “A deal? A’right. Whacha got?”

“Flowers aren’t cheap for you to just be doing whatever you do with them once I leave them on your doorstep. What do you do? Nevermind, that’s not important right now. For every flower I give you, starting now, no need to count the rest of them, you have to tell me something about yourself.” 

Daryl absentmindedly chewed on his thumb, considering the offer. Telling Paul something about himself could mean any number of things, he could play it safe. He nodded. “Seems fair. Deal.”

Paul grinned, raising his glass, and they clinked them together, drinking. “Excellent.”

“Bout when you get to my flower? What then?”

“Hunh. Dunno. Guess we’ll figure that one out when we get there.” 

Daryl smiled, and finished his drink. “Well, we both have work tomorrow, so I suggest you take something before you go to sleep.”

“Calling me a lightweight?”

“Are you?”

“...Yeah. Fine.” 

Paul walked Daryl back to his shop, and he looked like he wanted more than just a simple “Night, flower boy.” but that was all he was going to get. Daryl closed his shop up, locking the doors. He lived upstairs, and it looked like what you’d expect from a biker. Bean bags, a sofa, it was more for comfort than it was for style, as was evident by the amount of black clothes hanging out of his laundry basket. 

He stripped his shirt off, the tiredness seeping into his bones. He flopped into his bed, and fell asleep for five minutes before he woke up again, and had a brief struggle with his jeans, before they flew away from him, and hit the wall. He fell asleep into blissful dreams, hugging a pillow, lost in a world of bright colors and flowers.

The next day, he woke up with a start. Today was a big day, Rick was coming to pick his bike up. He got dressed quickly, thankful for none of the effects of a hangover as he pulled a pair of sweats and a t-shirt on. He grabbed his boots, and hurried downstairs, keys in hand. Today’s flower was strange looking, a bluish purple, with thin and long petals. Looked sort of alien like. He unlocked the door, put the flower in the book, and scribbled down a quick note, writing down the first thing that came to mind about himself. He headed outside, where Paul was re-potting something. He knelt down, and stuck the note in his back pocket. “Read it when you want, I got a customer incoming.” He gave Paul a wink, and he hurried back to his garage, pulling out Rick’s bike, the Harley he’d been working on yesterday. 

He wiped it down, and pulled the kickstand out, just as Rick rolled up in a Toyota truck, Carl in tow with him. “Hey Daryl!”

“She’s all done, Rick. Even gave her chrome a touch up.” 

“Nice… Carl, you mind loadin’ her up? Right, how much do I owe ya?” Daryl took him inside, and they worked it out at the register. They shook hands, and Daryl felt proud of the job that he’d done. “Thanks man, I’m thinkin’ of taking her out, heading south for a weekend. Oh, I meant to ask the last time - Glenn’s got himself a Ducati, but the tires are all worn down from the last owner, would you mind takin’ care of it?”

“Hell yeah, just have him text me the name brand he wants, and have him bring it over whenever he wants. Not today though, I got a chopper to finish.”

“Sounds good.” Rick sent off a quick text to Glenn, and he clapped Daryl on the shoulder. “Really appreciate this, man, I do. Listen,” He dropped his voice, eying Carl in the truck. “It’s his birthday coming up, and I want to get him a custom bike. Got any recommendations?”

“Mmh. I’d get a scrambler. Lightweight, cool lookin’. Here, this place sells a bunch that you can mix an’ match.” Daryl found the business card, and handed it over. 

“Thanks, I’ll have to check ‘em out. You comin’ to the party? We’re having a barbecue, and Michone’s been smoking that mule deer, c’mon…”

Daryl smiled, and he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” A light knock on the door, Paul. His hands were lightly covered in potting soil, and he had a streak of dirt on his cheek. Fucking breathtaking. 

“I hope I'm not interrupting, I just need to ask Daryl about a leaky pipe.”

“Nah, you’re good. You two friends?” Rick asked.

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded, closing the register. 

Rick shrugged. “Hell, bring him, too, that is, if you want?” He gave Paul a questioning glance.

“Yeah, I’d love to come.”

“Alright then. See you around, Daryl.” Rick waved, and he got in his truck, driving away. 

Paul looked around, and pulled the note out, his face turning pink. “What the hell is this?”

“Somethin’ about me. Duh.” Daryl walked out from behind the counter, and sat down on a bench, the chopper’s motor in pieces on the table before him. Jesus followed him, sitting on the other side, folding his arms.

“Is it even true?”

“Why would I lie about somethin’ like that? It’s hell to deal with in day to day life.”

Paul sighed, exasperated. He watched Daryl clean the parts, and put them together for a few minutes, apparently trying to think of something to say. His mouth opened a few times, and he shut it. Finally, he just spat it out. “Horse cock?! What does that, how, how big - what the fuck, Daryl?” 

Daryl laughed, setting a bolt down, giving Paul his full, undivided attention. “You seriously askin’ me how big my dick is?”

“Yes! I mean, no. No!” He bit his lip, clearly frustrated.

“Well, I’m not whipping it out, what with my hands covered in alcohol and oil. But…” Fuck , was he really going to do this? Guess so. He stood up, gauging himself. “When it’s hard, it comes to about here.” He pointed to a spot above his navel, shrugging. Though, since he was wearing sweats, you could clearly see the outline of his dick pressed against his leg. “Counts. It’s me, something you didn’t know.”

Paul was beet red, and he shoved the note in his pocket, nodding. “Holy shit, I mean, you’re right, technically, and if anyone were too, yknow, it’d be you.” He licked his lips, staring at Daryl as he sat down again. “You surprise me. Imean, I wasn’t expecting a deep dark secret, but I thought maybe, you know. ‘I like the color red.’ Something simple like that, not that you’ve-”

“-Got a big dick?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmh. Ain’t red. It’s blue. Like a pale blue.” Shit, was that too obvious? Paul’s eyes of the same color raked over him, and he smiled.

“How lovely.” He laughed, and he was about to rub his hand on his face, but Daryl’s arm snaked out, and grabbed his wrist before he could dirty himself even more. 

“Here, you’ve already got stuff on your face.” Daryl grabbed a clean rag from a milk crate, and sat next to Paul, brushing his hands off, then gently wiping his face clean. Once he was done, he became acutely aware of his situation. He was straddling the bench, his knee touching Paul’s, and they were close again. Close enough to see all of the details in his eyes, how bright his smile was. His instinct was to move, but then Paul reached out , and brushed a few strands of hair out of Daryl’s eyes, tucking them behind his ear. The touch was so soft, and gentle, Daryl felt like his heart was in Paul’s hands right now.

Then he did it again, on the other side of his face. This time, Daryl leaned into the touch, finger brushing the back of Paul’s hand. With only a few seconds of hesitation, he pressed a soft kiss to his palm, closing his eyes, and taking in the smell of the potting soil that he’d been using earlier. Daryl liked natural smells, like that. The earthiness brought him home, made him feel safe. “You like mexican food?” he asked.

“Yeah. What were you thinking?”

“Dinner at my place, once you close up. There’s a good restaurant, lots of food for cheap, they do take out. You game?”

“Of course.” Paul held his face for a moment longer, but they both had things that they had to do. Regretfully, they drew apart, Daryl moving back to his bench, and Paul giving him a wave goodbye as he left the shop. He finally lifted his other hands, trying to shake away the tremors that had started. He’d never been touched like that before. So tenderly, so thoughtfully. Paul was everything that Daryl wasn’t used to. He was fucking terrified of it, but he was fighting his instincts to run, because he knew that Paul was good for him. Or, he hoped that he was. To put his mind at ease, he put the motor back together, his fingers working on familiar things, things that he understood, things that he knew what to do with. 

Once he was finished, he used the crane in his shop to move it from the table to the frame, and he put it in place. Then, he finished out the body, screwing things together, replacing the wheels, polishing the handlebars. Then he froze. His upstairs was a fucking mess. Quickly, he finished the bike, and hurried upstairs. Most of it, he could shove in his closet, but he needed to pick up all of the beer bottles, pizza boxes, and random parts he had scattered around this floor.

So, he grabbed a garbage bag, and set to work, shoving things in there, wiping down the counter with some cleaner, putting his dirty dishes in the dishwasher and running it. It took him a total of two hours to do, and by the time he threw the garbage bag into the dumpster, he was sweaty and gross. Fuck. Guess he had to take a shower. 

He lit a few candles, and made sure they wouldn't accidentally burn his house down, then he got in the shower, dunking his head under the stream, enjoying the feel of the hot water on his skin. As he washed his hair, he wondered what it would be like if Paul was in there with him, his nimble fingers running over his skin. 

No, it was too early for thoughts like that with someone like Paul. You know, a normal guy who he wanted to mean more than an easy fuck. Still though, he imagined running his hands through his hair, and pushing him up against the shower wall, running his tongue over that beautiful neck of his… ah, fuck. He let his mind wander too much, and now he's sporting a lengthy hard-on. His head thumped gently on the wall, half-heartedly cursing himself. Well, no sense in giving himself blue balls. 

He stroked himself, one hand on the shower wall, and he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to think whatever thoughts it wanted to. His fucked up head led him down a road where he was biting into Paul's shoulder, and Paul had his legs wrapped around his waist, begging for him. He imagined what Paul would sound like screaming his name, and that was too much. The pleasure built up quickly, and he came to the image of the florist, cumming in ribbons all over the shower door. "Shit." he'd have to clean that now. He finished scrubbing himself off, making sure he didn't smell like sex, and he gave the door a hasty wipe down. He called the restaurant, ordering their family special, which was a plate of almost everything on the menu, and he got dressed, baggy jeans, and a button up shirt. He elected to stay barefoot.

He had a half hour before Paul closed up, and he spent that time looking over his room, making sure there was nothing damning, or dirty. 

And finally, a knock. He went downstairs, thankful it was just the food. He paid, and as soon as he went to go back inside, Paul came strolling over, giving Daryl an appreciative look. "Wow. So this is you when you're really clean? Nice. And the food smells, mmh, amazing!" 

Daryl gave him a grin, hiding the slightly guilty feeling he'd just gotten about jacking off to him earlier. "Oh, it is, trust me. Come in, please." He led Paul upstairs, and he set about laying the food out and getting plates from the cupboards.

Paul took to a mild exploration, looking at some pictures that Daryl had hung up on the walls. "Who are these people?" he asked, pointing. 

Daryl walked over, and grinned. "That's my brother Merle, that's my friend Carol. They're off in Texas right now. That's Rick an' Carl, his wife Michone, you'll meet 'em all next week. That's Maggie, and that's Glenn. I'm gonna work on a bike for him pretty soon." 

Paul smiled at all of these faces he didn't know, and then he pointed at a young blonde girl, hugging Daryl. "And her?" 

"Beth. My adopted sister. She's probably the only reason I never ended up in jail like Merle." 

Paul was quiet for a moment, and for a moment, Daryl thought that he'd scared him. "Well. I certainly owe you a lot of flowers for all of this information."

"Nah. It's an apology for earlier." And for something else Paul was never going to find out about. 

"Well, apology accepted." Paul leaned into Daryl, their shoulders touching. A perfect show of affection for him, not too much, but enough. 

"C'mon, let's eat." Daryl tugged his shirt, and they sat down at the dinner table, Daryl immediately going for the tamales and the flautas, Paul choosing to go with a couple mini quesadillas, and some nachos. They ate, and it was peaceful, Daryl's thigh pressed against his, the warmth a comforting reminder that this was good, this was okay. 

"So, who's the chopper for?" 

"Old codger. Probably in a gang, but as long as he doesn't bring that shit into my garage, I really don't care." Not to mention that he'd once been part of a gang. 

"Ah. Yeah, uh, my customers are usually apologetic spouses, or young kids wanting to impress a date." Paul laughed, shaking his head. "I was just wondering what kind of bike you liked to ride, didn't know if that one was yours."

"Nah, handles are up too high. You look like a badass, but your arms feel like hell after a half hour of riding. I like kinda what Rick had. Made for travelin'. Mines out back, it's got a cover on it." Daryl licked his fingers clean. "Maybe I'll take you for a ride someday."

Paul looked up from his food, face turning pink again. Daryl was good at that. "I'd like that." 

"Well, I can always give you a ride to Carl's birthday party."

"That works for me."

"Call it a date, then." As soon as he said the words, he regretted them, but Paul didn't seem to take notice. Or was this a date? Probably too late to ask. He rested his elbow on the table, and put his head in his hand, gazing at Paul. His other hand dropped to his lap, casually brushing the florists leg with his knuckles. "What's your favorite flower?" he asked. 

Paul met his eyes, and bit his lip, thinking. "That's a tough question. I like tulips, colorful and simple. Daffodils, reliant. Lavender is soothing enough. But… I think I like honeysuckle the best. Smaller flower, but so beautiful. And the dew is the sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

"We used to have them growin' up the side of our house, I'd always get in trouble for eatin' all of it." He chuckled, giving him a fond smile. His index finger extended, slowly stroking his thigh. Paul smiled at the touch, and he mirrored Daryl's pose. 

"At first, it's hard to imagine you doing that. But… I can see it." He winked, and Daryl took that as an invitation, hoping he wasn't misreading it. He moved his hand until his palm was flat on Paul's leg, slowly moving his fingers, slowly moving towards his inner thigh. Then, Paul sat up, and grabbed his arm. Daryl froze. One hand stayed on Daryl's bicep, and the other reached out, and cupped his neck, pulling him closer. Once again they were close, and with a pang he remembered his shower escapade again. The hand that wasn't on Paul's thigh wrapped around his shoulders, and he couldn't resist anymore. Neither could Paul it seemed, because as soon as Daryl dipped his head to go in for a kiss, Paul was the one to initiate it. 

The kiss was messy at first, two people who have never kissed each other before, but then they slowed down for a moment, found the right angle, and the kiss was better than anything Daryl could have imagined. Jesus's hands were so warm on his skin, his lips so soft against his own. Daryl pushed further with his hand, moving from his inner thigh to the bulge in his jeans. Paul's mouth parted in a gasp and Daryl slipped his tongue in. It was well received by the soft moan Paul let out. The moan went right to Daryl's dick, heat pooling in his stomach. He grunted, pulling Paul closer. He unbuttoned his jeans feverishly, sliding his hand in his pants, palming his cock through his underwear. He was pretty well-endowed himself. 

Paul let out another moan, digging his fingers into Daryl's bicep. It was almost too much. They broke apart, gasping for air, cheeks heated. They broke into smiles, and Daryl nuzzled into Paul's neck, pulling his hand out of his pants, and wrapping both arms around him. "That was… Incredible." He murmured. 

"You're telling me, heh." Paul's breath was warm against his neck, and Daryl relished the feeling. For a moment, he drew back, unsure of himself. He was letting himself get too close. "Stop."

"What?" Daryl frowned. 

"That look on your face. Doubt? Stop. Look, I get it. I have trust issues of my own, it's hard for me to let people in. Sometimes it feels damn near impossible." Paul cupped his face, giving him a sweet smile. "I get it. And because I get it, you never have to explain yourself to me. If you wanna stop, if you want me to go home, and we can start over tomorrow, I understand." 

Daryl didn't know what to say. He wanted to kiss him again, but he didn't want to push it. Somehow going back to what they were formerly doing didn't feel quite right. "Probably for the best. You're beautiful, this was… Incredible. But." He sighed. Then he smiled. "Help me clean up, and I'll walk you home?" 

They put dinner away in silence, but it was good. And when Daryl opened the door for Paul, he kissed his cheek. They headed out into the cool night, smiling, leaning into each other. Paul tangled their fingers together, and rested his head on his shoulder. "This was fun. Honestly, the most fun I've had since… Well, last night, I guess." He chuckled. 

"Me too. You're uh. You're great. You know that, right?" Daryl struggled to convey his feelings, most of them various shades of gratitude, but he thought he got his point across. 

"So are you, Daryl. Most guys I'm sure would have kept going. Forced it, yknow. That's what I like about you. You're honest, you know what's right and what's wrong. Not to say that us fucking would be wrong, just. Not tonight."

"Not tonight." Daryl agreed. They ended up at Paul's doorstep, and Daryl kissed him once more, running his finger along his jaw. "But sometime."

"Oh, definitely. Goodnight, Daryl. See you tomorrow." 

"Night." Daryl made sure he got inside, and he went back to his place, after closing it up again. He still had a hard on from earlier, so he crawled into bed once more, and merely humped a pillow until he came, muffling his groans into the mattress. He slept even better than the night before. 

The next morning, he woke up with his face buried in a pillow, drool coming out of his mouth. Attractive. He rolled onto his back, and sat up, grabbing a pack of smokes, and a lighter. Last night was fun. Today, he wanted to chill, though. Just work on his bike, fix Glenn's Ducati, eat some shit food. 

He still had to tell Paul something, though. The deal, and all that. Oh fuck, the deal! He hopped into some pants, and went downstairs, cigarette still in hand. Today's flower was some kinda bright pink thing, lots of petals, and it smelled nice too. Wait, he actually knew this one - a peony! Yeah. That's what this was. He'd seen them in his neighbors garden growing up, and he always got bitched at for running them over with his tricycle. Paul wasn't outside, and he didn't think his customers would appreciate him coming in half naked. So, he went back inside, repeating his habit with the book. He grabbed a tank top that was hanging from a pipe, and got it on just in time for Glenn to roll up in a pick-up, Ducati beaut in tow. 

"Daryl, hey! Hope it's okay that I stopped by today!" the kid hopped out of the truck, and they unloaded the bike together, wheeling it to the garage. 

"Yeah, s'alright. How's Maggs?" 

"She's great, though she's been craving some weird stuff, pickles and ice cream. Something about textures? I dunno, I get it for her, she's happy, and that's all that matters." Glenn gave Daryl one of his all-star grins, the one that makes him look like a little kid. "What about you, you have anyone?" 

"Mmh. Kinda. Taking it slow, we've both been burned. He's a good guy." Daryl began to see what size sockets he'd need, rummaging through his toolboxes. 

"Well, spill, who is he? C'mon Daryl…" Glenn gave him a pleading look, and he scoffed. 

"He's the florist next door. Name's Paul. Actually," Fine. Fuck it. "We can go meet him right now. Buy some flowers for Maggie?" 

"Oh, she'd love that. She's big on daisies, wildflowers like that." 

Daryl nodded, pulling out what he needed, and setting the tools on a workbench, so he could come back to them later. "Right. Let's go." Still barefoot, he walked over to the flower shop with Glenn. Paul was busy with a customer when they walked in, so Daryl led him to the flowers that Maggie would like. 

"Whoa. He's pretty. For a guy, I mean. That hair, though." Glenn smiled, and Daryl had to turn away to hide his pinkened face. 

"Yeah, he is." And just like that, Paul met his eyes, and he smiled. Daryl found himself returning the smile, and he even gave a little wave. 

"Damn. You never smile like that. Ooh, these are pretty!" Glenn leaned into a bouquet of orchids, and Paul made his way over, tucking some loose hair behind his ears. 

"Hey, Daryl. You must be Glenn, I'm Paul." They shook hands, Glenn giving Daryl a knowing look. He ignored him, leaning against the counter. 

"Hey man, it's nice to meet you! I've heard literally nothing about you."

"Likewise. Well, he has a picture of you and Maggie with him, on his wall."

"Oh, the Grand Canyon? Yeah, that was a fun trip." Glenn smiled at Daryl. "I'm gonna pick out flowers for Maggs, you two lovebirds hang out, okay?" 

Daryl rolled his eyes, but Paul tugged him away, taking him by the hand, and leading him down an aisle full of big bushy plants. "It's good to see you, babe." 

"Babe?" 

"Too soon?" 

"Too weird."

"I'll keep trying."

"You do that. Listen…" Daryl pulled him closer, hooking his fingers in Paul's jeans. "... About the flower, uh. Come over later, I'll give you a CD."

"What's on the CD?" 

"Me, basically. My music that I like. Rock, mostly. That better than yesterday's?" 

"Much. Thank you." his words were heartfelt, and Daryl swore he got lightheaded for a minute. Paul leaned into him, and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled, and wrapped his arms around the florist, nuzzling into his neck, inhaling his sweetness. 

“I don’t wanna go.”

“I know. Neither do I.” but they were adults, and they had shit to do. Daryl left Glenn there to peruse the flowers, he had a client that should be coming any minute now, the old dude who owned the chopper. He pulled her out of the shop, and sat on a milk crate, working out the price with a pen and the palm of his hand. Worked out to about eight hundred bucks, which Daryl wasn't super comfortable with charging to a known gang member, but he worked his ass off, he deserved it. 

Glenn came back to his truck and took off, giving Daryl his boyish grin one more time. Fucking idiot. He smiled back, though. Kid deserved that. He pulled out a cigarette, and was in the middle of filling his lungs with smoke when they pulled up, two men on a bike. The older one, his customer, got off. 

"Hey, Daryl. Were you careful with her?" 

"Conner. Yeah, I was. She's as good as new, replaced almost everything on that thing."

"Good…" He sniffed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I trust it'll be a good price."

"It's reasonable. Spend four days on that thing. Comes to a little under nine hundred."

"Nine hundred bucks?" Connor scoffed. "Please. Five at best. You're good Daryl, but not that good."

"If you give me five hundred, I'm keepin' the bike."

"What the fuck did you say to me?" 

"You heard me." Daryl stood up as soon as the other guy got off of the bike, all muscle with a pea sized head. He flicked his cigarette away, getting into a stance, ready to fight. "I ain't taking anything less than what I'm fuckin' owed."

"I don't think he knows who we are, boss." Meathead muttered, advancing on Daryl. "Thinking he needs a lesson."

"Know damn well who you are, and what you fucking do! I don't give a rats ass, this is my shop! Keep that shit away from me, I'm just here to fix bikes!" 

"He knows, Reg. Look at him. He's not scared. And what he's saying is true… I just don't feel like paying that much." 

Daryl saw it coming, the fist swinging at his face. He let himself get hit. He's got cameras up on the outside of his shop, as long as they see he didn't start it, he could beat the shit out of these guys all he wanted and get away with it. So he took the punch, and though his vision went black, he fought back, launching himself at Reg, grabbing him by the shirt. He kicked him in the shin, kneed him in the gut, and when Reg doubled over, he kneed him in the face, blood spurting out all over his pants. Reg reeled back, and Daryl threw a hard punch to his face again, causing him to stumble backwards. Another punch, and he was on the ground, Daryl punching his face over and over again - until he got thrown off, landing on his back, his shoulder blades getting scraped through the thin material of his tank top. A heavy weight was on top of him, and then a heavy blow to the side of his head. One, two, three more. He scrabbled around, trying to reach for something, and his hand found something heavy, and metal. He slammed the pipe wrench into the side of his head, and the weight was gone. 

Daryl climbed to his feet, wheezing, but he had won, pointing the wrench at Reg. "Stay down." his gaze turned to Connor, who merely smiled, and raised his hands. 

"Jesus Christ, Daryl. You're one son of a bitch. Fine, seven hundred."

Daryl growled, and took a step closer. "Just moved up to a thousand for medical, asshole."

"Fucking hell. Fine! I swear, you fucking belong with us, kid."

"Ain't nothing like you."

"Whatever you say. Damn. You're not going to call the cops, are you?" he grabbed his wallet, flipped through it, shaking his head. He pulled a checkbook out instead, and wrote on it, handing the paper over. 

"Nah. Not if you fuck off." Daryl huffed, turning his back on the both of them, and going back inside, slamming his garage doors shut. He sat on a work bench, and not long after, he heard the roar of engines, and then they faded off into the distance. He sat there for a while, just staring off into space. 

He was good at being violent. Hell, when it came to brutal sex, he was the king of that shit. As long as there was consent, and understanding, obviously. But he fucking hated being violent without reason. There was not fucking reason for that shit today. He was so lost in these dark thoughts that he didn't notice the fact that he was shaking, or that blood was dripping off of his face and back onto the floor, until there was a knock. Paul. He came in, obviously wary. 

"I saw what happened out there. Well, I heard what happened, some customers told me. Are you okay?" his voice was soft, and Daryl struggled to hear concern, rather than pity. Old habits die hard. 

"M' fine." He mumbled, hanging his head. He heard footsteps, and Paul sat next to him. He didn't touch Daryl, he was just there. Aw, hell. Daryl clenched his jaw, a wave of emotions hitting him. Paul knew exactly what to do. He knew what Daryl needed, he cared so much that he was restraining himself, and just shutting up for once. Godamnit, that fucking killed him. 

Choking down a lump in his throat, he reached out and grabbed Paul's hand. He squeezed it once, and Paul returned the gesture. Eventually, Daryl raised his head, and peered at the florist through his bloody hair, and swelling eye. "Thank you."

"Of course." their voices were barely a whisper, and Daryl liked it that way. "Is there… What do you want me to do? You're bleeding, and-" 

"-Upstairs. I… I have a shower." He admitted, with just a touch of guilt. This isn't how he imagined getting Paul in the shower for sure, but his head was starting to throb, and his tank top was getting sticky on his back. "Help me?" 

Paul nodded, and he helped Daryl upstairs, setting him on the toilet while he turned the shower on. "Do you want me to get in with you?" 

The weakness was starting to set in. That bone deep, all consuming tiredness he always got after a severe beat down. He nodded. "Yeah." 

Paul helped Daryl strip down, and get in the shower. A few minutes later, he joined him. Daryl refused to turn his back on him at first. "Daryl, I need to clean those wounds. Please?" he'd kept his hair up in a bun, and his eyes reflethe water, more luminous than ever. Daryl huffed at him, but he turned, putting his hand on the shower wall to steady himself, waiting for the usual gasp or remark. But nothing came. 

Paul grabbed a washcloth and soap, and merely went about his work, carefully scrubbing Daryl's skin, fingertips grazing his wounds, tracing his tattoos. The hot water and the calming touches eased Daryl out of his animal-like state, enough to appreciate the soft kiss that Paul pressed to his shoulder. 

"I want to talk about these someday, you know that, right? But I won't push it today. Not for a while. Not until you bring it up yourself. Okay?" 

Daryl nodded, turning around. "Okay." Paul pulled him under the water, getting his hair nice and wet, massaging his scalp. Then he washed his hair, getting suds all over Daryl, but it was sweet nonetheless. Soon enough, Daryl was mostly clean, all that was left to do was his face. Paul was very careful, especially around the gash in his forehead. The water running down the drain turned pink, but Daryl was happy. 

"All good, Daryl." Paul bit his lip, his face turning pink as he tried to hide a laugh.

"What?"

"It's just, last night, I saw it through your pants, but…" his eyes flickered down, and Daryl felt a spark of pride. He was fully hard, guess even just being around Paul had that effect on him. 

"What, you like my horse cock?" he chuckled, smiling broadly as Paul laughed, turning even redder. 

"I mean, it's hard not to. Er. No pun intended." 

Daryl pulled Jesus closer by his hips. He was joking a second ago, but now he was serious, kissing Paul's forehead with utmost tenderness. Paul leaned into his shoulder, resting his cheek there. Daryl wrapped his arms around him, and closed his eyes. 

Was this what love was? He could easily say that he loved Paul right now. Not out loud, obviously. But the way he felt in this moment, like he wanted to stay here forever, he wanted to be here forever with Paul, like he'd do anything for this guy. This fucking guy, that he'd met, fallen for, made out with, and stuck his hand down his pants. Daryl was a damn fool, but he was to tired to push him away. He was also just really fucking tired of doing that in general. 

"Should probably get out at some point."

"True. Here you go, I'll clean myself up real quick, and I'll be there, okay?" 

Daryl nodded, and once Paul made sure he wasn't going to fall on his ass, he undid his hair, dunking his head under. Daryl half-heartedly dried himself off, and flopped onto his bed, not giving a damn that he was butt ass naked laying on top of a mess of pillows and blankets. He tried to keep his eyes open, but he obviously failed miserably, as the next time he opened them, his pillow had turned into something warmer. Paul's arm. 

He grunted, and Paul looked over at him, a blissful smile upon his face. "Hey. You passed out cold, so I ordered pizza. It's warm in the oven." He cupped Daryl's face, leaning in and giving him a kiss. "You were pretty hot, all spread out like that. Then I crawled in, you curled up to me, damn near adorable." 

Daryl huffed, pulling a sheet that Paul had draped over him up to his face, hiding in the soft fabric. "M'not adorable." 

"You're not helping your case!" Paul wrapped himself around Daryl, and he begrudgingly accepted it, sighing into his chest. Man, he smelled good. 

"Mmh. You're the adorable one. I'm the one who beats people up if anyone but me calls you that." 

Paul laughed, and Daryl hugged him tighter, rolling on top of him. They were still both naked, with only a sheet between them, but Daryl straddled his waist, leaning over Paul. He dipped his head down, and kissed him fiercely, using his pointer finger to tip Paul's chin up. The kiss was sweet, and Daryl intended to keep it that way. 

That is, until he felt Paul's length harden beneath him. He froze, opening his eyes, and staring at Paul's blue ones. "Paul…" 

"Sorry, I just. It's hot you, like this." His hands came up to cover his face, but Daryl batted them away. 

"Yeah? Hot how?" 

Paul stared at him for a moment. "Are you sure?" 

"Fuck no. But today feels better than yesterday. That, or I just give less of a fuck." Paul still looked concerned, so Daryl huffed, flicking his nose. "If somethin' don't sit well with me, I'll tell you. Okay?" 

"Okay. Fine." He seemed satisfied with that, so Daryl kissed him again, slower, hotter, dragging his tongue over Paul's lips. 

"Good. So tell me." He murmured, kissing the shell of his ear. He licked a stripe along his neck, and Paul was about to say something, but all that came out was gibberish. "Sorry, didn't catch that…" 

"Shut up…" he mumbled, fingers tracing down his spine. "You've no idea what you're doing…" 

"Tell me…" Daryl kissed his collarbone, swiping his thumb over Paul's lips. "Cmon, most days I can't get you to shut up, one hard on, and you're speechless?" 

"Fuck…" He gasped. "You, just you, fuck!" his fingers tangled in Daryl's hair, and Daryl grunted. 

"If you're gonna do that…" his lips hovered over Paul's, and his voice dropped down to a whisper again. "Do it like you fuckin' mean it."

"That. When you do that. Jesus christ…" Paul leaned his head back, and Daryl felt his cock twitch underneath him. 

"How long's it been? Huh? How long?" 

"Too long… Daryl… Please…" His voice was borderline whiny, and it went right to Daryl's cock. 

He kissed Paul's chest, pausing to swipe his tongue over his nipple, continuing downward, leaving bite marks around his navel, and his hips. He'd like to think that he was good at giving blow jobs. He'd had enough practice, that's for damn sure. He moved the sheet out of the way, and with Paul's hands tugging at his hair, he took his length into his mouth. He was worried that his gag reflex might have resurfaced over the years, but it was evident by how much he was taking in that it was non existent. 

One hand clamped down on Paul's hips to keep him from bucking too much, the other was running up and down his thigh. Daryl's head bobbed up and down his length slowly, forcing himself to take his time, though Paul's moans made him want to just mouth fuck him until the whole neighborhood could hear him. Mmh. Maybe he should do that regardless. 

He sped up, just to test Paul's reaction, taking him deeper into his throat. He'd be raspy as hell in the morning, he already knew it, but it was worth it to hear the high-pitched scream from Paul, and to feel a sharp tug in his hair, guiding his head to a much quicker pace. He pulled off of his cock to lick a stripe down to his hole, and up his balls, causing Paul to quiver underneath him. "Daryl, fuck, please… Fuck me…" 

"Ain't happening." He muttered, giving a hard nip to his inner thigh as a punishment. "For one, I'm havin' fun down here. Two, you're tight, and I don't feel like workin' you open for hours on end." He licked over the bite, moving up, and pressing a kiss to his hip. “An’ lastly, if I wanna fuck you, I wanna do it right. Ain’t happening with my fucking head.”

Paul whined, but he nodded in understanding. “Okay. But one day-”

“-One day I’ll fuck you stupid. Until then.” His head dipped down again, deep throating him once more. His own cock was leaking precum, but he ignored his own needs, only focusing on what Paul wanted. His cock was so fucking hot in Daryl’s mouth, and he was sure he was joing to leave a bruise on Paul’s hip from how hard he was having to hold him down. He looked up to see his expression on his face, and he wasn’t disappointed.

It looked like he was doing his best to hold back his moans, face flushed, mouth open in a pant, his hair all messy around him. The best part though, was that Paul was watching him. Daryl pulled off with a sly grin, giving his cock a long, slow lick from the base to the head. “You like watching me, huh?” A swipe of his tongue over a vein, and Paul let out an unearthly moan. 

“Sh-shaddup…” He muttered, arching his back. “You’re having way too much fun with this…”

“True. But I’m not the one that likes to watch.” Before Paul could respond, Daryl crawled up his body, planting a kiss on his lips, forcing him to taste himself. Paul shivered under his touch, and dammit if Daryl’s cock wasn’t throbbing right now, at the sight of him, begging for Daryl with his body, wrapping his legs around Daryl, cupping his face, fingers trailing down his neck, through his hair, down his chest. Paul’s hips moved underneath him now that their leaking cock were lined up, trying to get Daryl to thrust along with him. 

Daryl hovered there for a moment, trying to decide what he wanted to do. There was so much that he wanted to do, he wanted to see Paul’s mouth wrapped around his fingers, he wanted to ride Paul’s thigh, he wanted to do so, so much. But for now, he complied with Paul’s obvious intentions, and thrust his hips, finally receiving some much needed friction on his cock. It was his turn to let out a shuddering moan, stifling it by kissing Paul’s neck, something he found that he really liked doing. 

“Daryl, fuck, please…” Paul groaned, and Daryl wrapped one of his hands around their cocks, timing his strokes with his thrusts. He could feel the pressure building, he wasn’t going to last much longer, not with Paul making those noises that were far too hot to be legal. 

His fingernails dug into Daryl’s back, causing him to hiss in pain, but his cock twitched, and Paul felt it, meeting his eyes with a dazed, but knowing expression. “Just be careful…” He muttered, and Paul complied, leaving scratches on his back, but avoiding his injuries that he’d sustained earlier. The sharp pain coupled with Paul whispering “Gonna come…” over and over was enough to push him over the edge. They came in unison, Daryl squeezing his eyes shut from the pleasure and calling out Paul's name in a raspy voice. It took several moments for both of them to come down from their high, their chests covered in sticky cum, breathing ragged. 

“Shit… Guess the shower was for nothing…” He grunted, climbing off of Paul, and flopping onto his back. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure you’d be the one helping me in this time.” Paul laughed, in surprise, not at Daryl. “Jesus christ that was the best fucking blow job I’ve ever had…”

“Mmh. Wanted you to come in my mouth, but, kissing you was more important at the time.”

“Don’t even say that, that would be the hottest fucking thing ever, on top of everything else.”

“It’s true, though. Hang on, I’ll get washcloths.” Daryl got out of bed after kissing him one last time, and fetched some damp rags so they could wipe themselves off. He finished rather quickly, somewhat used to doing it fairly often, so still naked, he grabbed the pizza out of the oven, and brought it to the bed with him, nestling comfortably in his pile of pillows. Paul eventually finished, and curled up next to Daryl, grabbing a slice. 

“Hot sex and hot pizza… not how I thought my day would go but fuck it, this is great.” 

Daryl smiled, slinging an arm around his shoulders, and tucking Paul’s hair behind his ears. “Get used to it, this is kinda how I live.” Paul turned, raising an eyebrow. 

“So, we’re official?”

“Thought our deal made it official. Was pretty sure stickin’ my hand down your pants made it official.” Daryl chuckled, kissing his forehead. “Yeah, Paul. Unless-”

“No. I mean, yeah, we’re official… Darling?”

“Fuck no. Ain’t a fucking lady.” To prove his point, Daryl shoved half of a slice of pizza into his mouth, sticking his tongue out. 

“Fair point. Pumpkin?”

Daryl grunted, considering that one. “Not in public. And only in moments like this.”

“After sex pizza?”

“No.” He swallowed what was in his mouth, and gave Paul the sweetest, most tender kiss he possibly could, running his thumb over his cheekbone. “Like that.”

“Hmm. But it feels like that a lot. So… Thanks, pumpkin.”

Daryl flushed pink, and now that he was naked, Paul could clearly see how far the blush went down, spreading over his chest, and down his neck. “Mmh. Yeah.” He was flustered now, and Paul’s proud grin didn’t help. If Paul felt like that all the time with Daryl… did that mean that he might love him too? Shit. It was way too early to talk about that, that’s for sure. But still, Daryl kissed his shoulder, and returned to his pizza, trying to fight back the blush.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous. You know that, right?” Paul smiled at him, and Daryl’s heart warmed, though he shook his head.

“Nuh uh. ‘Fraid I can’t agree with you, not when you’re right here.” 

“Did you just call me pretty?”

“Mmhmm. Oh shit, hang on.” Remembering the promise he made earlier, he climbed out of bed, and found a copy of his playlist, handing it to Paul. “Mostly like, southern rock. Some classic stuff on there.”

Paul took it from him, reading the hurried writing on the back. “D’you have a CD player?”

“Yeah, hang on.” He grabbed his beat up white and orange walkman, popping it open, and clicking the cd in there. He handed Paul an earbud, and ‘Sweet Emotion’ started to play. He curled up against Daryl’s chest, fingers lightly tapping to the beat. Daryl sighed contentedly, kissing the top of Paul’s head. “Should stay the night.”

“I was hoping you’d let me.”

And so Paul did. The rest of the night was mostly spend cuddling, listening to music, and just generally fucking around. They never got around to putting clothes on, and Daryl let Paul touch his tattoos. They both fell asleep easier than either had before, Paul nestled comfortably in Daryl’s arms.


End file.
